I love when a blog’s commenter can complete the story. The MotArt posted these photos found on MajorCalloway’s Flickr with the note “maybe East Germany?”. An anonymous commenter completes the story perfectly. “Thats East Germany, the Sachsenring. It might be 1961 or 1962. International races are only from 1961 to 1972 in East Germany. And with the Honda RC 145, it is international.” Sorry to steal The MotArts thunder, but the thrill of a solved mystery is too good not to share.
The swan song of the great Italian race bike makers, 1976 was in the middle of the transition to Japanese maker dominance. But let’s raise our glasses for the Guzzis, Agustas, and Gileras.
You could have done worse things with your summer of 1966 than perch yourself around the bends of Charade. There’s footage from the May MotoGP meeting, and a July 1966 saloon and sportscar race that set the stage for the filming of Frankenheimer’s Grand Prix. Which makes this film not only a great series of clips from the storied track, but a prop in the camera operator’s position among the 3,000 extras that served as the crowd for the faux French GP. Lucky for us, our cameraman was close to the action too, there’s clear shots of Françoise Hardy in the pits, as well as Frankenheimer himself (I think that’s him in the camel sportcoat). Marvelous!
I love it when old ideas are re-examined alongside new innovation. After being banned in 1957, the dustbin fairing is returning to the contemporary motorcycle racing scene on the 2010 Agni E1 electric race bike.
Just look at this video. With the rider’s simple black racing suit you can almost make yourself believe you’re looking at 50′s footage—until you see the back half of the bike anyway.
Limited power? Limited range? Sounds like electric bikes will, somewhat unexpectedly, give the modern world a return to old-time racing.
Well, not quite.. But this is as close as we’re likely to get. The owner of this Bielefeld, Germany velodrome let some vintage boardtrack enthusiasts on his highly banked (albeit paved and not planks) cycling track for a few laps in vintage boardtrackers. Although the pace looks pretty leisurely, I’d imagine the grade of those banks looks a lot steeper when you’re on them than they look in this clip. The onboard footage, complete with flickery, grainy, goodness give us as good an approximation of boardtracking as we’re likely to get these days.
I just love that this velodrome owner let these guys on the track. Imagine walking up to a business owner and saying, ‘excuse me, we’d like to do something extraordinarily dangerous on your business property. Just for fun.’
This Jeff Decker sculpture of a hillclimber in the throes of attempting control (and losing) graces the plaza of the Harley-Davidson Museum in Milwaukee. It is a mammoth bronze piece. At 150% scale, it is gigantic, weighing over 5,000 pounds and standing at 16 feet. It is heroic; showing a rider that is dextrous, brave, and almost impossibly flexible. He struggles to control the machine that it uncontrollable; on a racing surface that is rough and unstable and constantly shifting. It’s a brilliant capture of an amazing, if inelegant, moment.
It’s the inelegance of it that I love about it. This is no proud victory posing with his laurels and receiving a kiss from the girl awarding a trophy; it isn’t a stoic lone biker rocketing across a desert highway; it is a competitor struggling to take his machine up the hill—and he is falling. Struggling to regain control, but almost certainly beyond the tipping point, the sculpture captures the instant before failure. It is a unconventional moment to showcase, but one that I think exemplifies the spirit of competition, and the determination of the competitor.
Shortly after the unveiling, there was criticism that this was a fanciful interpretation of the hillclimb. Many suggested that the events didn’t achieve this level of acrobatics or drama, and this was simply another artist’s flight of fancy in turning the mundane into the heroic. Several years have passed, and Jeff Decker recently showed some images on his blog that showcase that, if anything, his sculpture didn’t go far enough to capture the bravery of the early hillclimbers. Looking at these images, I’m inclined to believe him. Head over to his blog to see the complete gallery.
I always thought there was some mechanical reason for mounting the sidecar on the right, but some of these racers have the sidecar on the left. Is this a variation of the right-hand-drive thing?
Regardless, some great footage here. Mostly BMWs and Benellis from the 1969 championship. Sidecar riders show a bravery not often seen since the days of barnstormers and their aerial acrobatics. Their balance, agility, and sheer bravado always impresses me.
. Which makes this film not only a great series of clips from the storied track, but a prop in the camera operator’s position among the 3,000 extras that served as the crowd for the faux French GP. Lucky for us, our cameraman was close to the action too, there’s clear shots of Françoise Hardy in the pits, as well as Frankenheimer himself (I think that’s him in the camel sportcoat). Marvelous! 
